


A Question of Loyalty

by Drag0nst0rm



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Prejudice, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 09:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20225767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: Sometimes, even elves are idiots.





	A Question of Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> For @anduniela, who wanted Gil-Galad and Elrond, hurt/comfort, and “The first thing out of your mouth had better be an apology.”
> 
> I still don't own the Silmarillion.

Gil-Galad froze, and the rest of the small council he had gathered froze with him.

As king, he did his best not to get openly angry often. When he did, everyone seemed to generally consider it best to hold still and hope they weren’t the one his icy gaze was about to be pinned on.

“_What_ did you just say?”

Laron, who had almost certainly counted on his comment passing unnoticed in the general noise and flurry of everyone rising to go, went uncomfortably pale. Gil-Galad could almost see his thoughts racing as he struggled for a way to backtrack. 

Elrond’s face had not quite managed to go politely blank in time to prevent a reaction from showing. Gil-Galad was not particularly interested in hearing Laron try to backtrack.

“Personally,” he said with as much mildness as he could muster, “I would recommend that the next words out of your mouth be an apology.”

Laron was at least not _horrifically_ stupid. The next words out of his mouth were, “I am very sorry, my king. I spoke without thinking.”

Gil-Galad still had to pray for patience though, because - “Unless that was a much cleverer insult than I’d given it credit for, I’m not the one that apology should be directed towards.”

Laron’s face had gone entirely blank, but he turned to Elrond, bowed his head every so slightly and said, “My apologies, Lord Elrond. I spoke without thinking.”

“Of course,” Elrond said, and he said it so kindly it took Gil-Galad to notice the potential double meaning in the words.

Laron thankfully didn’t seem to notice at all, so Gil-Galad waved off him and the others with an irritated, “Dismissed.” His gaze flicked to his favorite cousin before he could follow the others out the door. “Elrond, you stay.”

When the door had fallen shut behind the last of them, Gil-Galad allowed most of the mask to fall and his bewilderment to show. “What was _that_ all about?”

Elrond’s own mask slipped, and for a moment he looked very unhappy before his usual serenity returned with visible effort. “I suspect he was unhappy you opted to follow my advice on the Numenor question.”

“You’re our resident expert on the Numenor question,” Gil-Galad said with growing exasperation. “He, on the other hand, has yet to have a single conversation with a Man at court that I haven’t felt the need to either intervene in or apologize for. What did he expect?”

Elrond sighed wearily. “May I - ?” He asked, gesturing to one of the chairs.

“Of course you can, there’s hardly any need to stand on formality right now,” Gil-Galad said impatiently.

Elrond sank down gratefully. One of his hands reached up to trace the edge of an ear that was just slightly less pointed than most elves’ would be. “I think my being the expert on Numenor is rather the problem,” he admitted. “I’m too much a Man for the taste of Laron’s faction. These growing tensions with Numenor haven’t helped that any.”

“You chose the elves,” Gil-Galad said firmly. “You’re an elf.”

Elrond touched the slightly round tip of his ear again, and wryly said, “Mostly.”

“Definitely,” Gil-Galad said, leaving no room for argument.

“An elf then,” Elrond said, holding his hands up in surrender. “And if you can convince Laron of that, it will at least only leave me to face the question of what kind of elf.”

Gil-Galad blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I think Celeborn still hasn’t forgiven me for not pursuing my birthright among the Sindar, and while he is at least kind about it, he is … not the only one to have had the thought.” Elrond looked down at his hands. “Some see it as a kind of betrayal, I think. And some amongst the Noldor, of course, think I must be hiding some kind of secret loyalty to Oropher. And some of both think my upbringing means I was coerced into having Feanorian sympathies. And Celebrimbor, as the last official remnant of that house - “ He cut off with a grimace.

“I thought you got along with Celebrimbor,” Gil-Galad said, startled.

“I do! But at first … At first he was rather cautious. He was concerned that - Well, you can imagine.”

“Quite.”

“But we got past that fairly quickly, or so I had thought. Yet lately in his letters he’s been circumspect and careful again, and though I don’t know for certain why, I can only imagine someone’s convinced I must still quietly be holding a grudge.”

That was concerning. There had been quiet tension with Eregion for some time now, and Elrond was Gil-Galad’s best link to continued peace with Celebrimbor. If even that link was straining … 

Gil-Galad quietly cursed family, politics, and whoever had first considered combining the two.

Elrond forced a smile. “Just the same old problems, really,” he said. “Nothing worth worrying about.”

“Of course it’s worth worrying about,” Gil-Galad said instantly. “It hurts you, which is definitely worth worrying about, and all other concerns aside, they’re being idiots, and it makes me uncomfortable to find idiocy in people I’m counting on to help me run a country.”

“We’re all idiots sometimes,” Elrond said with more grace than Gil-Galad could have mustered.

“Nonsense. I’m the king, I’m never an idiot. Sometimes other people just fail to recognize my genius,” he said, mostly to get Elrond to smile.

He did smile which, since Gil-Galad couldn’t fix the rest of it, was going to have to be enough of a win for him to settle for right now.

Well, that and coming up with a way to stick Laron with enough paperwork to bury him for a solid month.


End file.
